


A Memory of a Different Color

by Sumiregawa Nenene (Shadowblight)



Category: Aoi Hana | Sweet Blue Flowers
Genre: Canon - Anime, F/F, Femslash, First Date, First Kiss, Post-Canon, Shoujo-ai
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-20
Updated: 2009-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-04 17:06:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowblight/pseuds/Sumiregawa%20Nenene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fumi has made plenty of memories so far regarding her love life. Akira doesn't understand them personally, but when Fumi puts her on the spot by trying to start a relationship with her, how will she react? Perhaps Fumi will have the chance to add a memory of an entirely different color...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [briar_pipe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/briar_pipe/gifts).



> So yes, this is a Fumi/Akira fic. A couple things for it: firstly, I had been wanting to write a fic for this fandom since the anime ended. I've never really gotten into the manga; the anime truly brought this series "alive" for me. It made the slice-of-life feel a bit more bearable. I was truly lucky then to have my Yuletide requester happen to provide me just the playing field I needed to write it out. :D
> 
> Secondly, ahh... well. I'm afraid Yasuko TRIED to invade Part II. Her role was more kept to a minimum, honestly more like a plot device. I needed her to be used as a poking stick for Akira. Luckily however, dear Yuletide requester, she didn't make the final cut. My only defense is this:
> 
> [ ](http://img85.imageshack.us/i/61706706.png/)
> 
> And yes, I really am so much of a dork that I edited out the spoon from that scene. I'm also afraid _Part I._ may be a little slow. I apologize.
> 
> At any rate, everyone please enjoy~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, God. This is over?
> 
> I've honestly, truly, rewritten this whole thing about twice now. I _still_ don't know that I like it. But it's too late to take it back now!
> 
> briar_pipe, I hope you enjoy this piece, at least. You gave me just the perfect amount of freedom to play with this. It was totally something I'd had rolling around in the back of my head since the anime ended.
> 
> Lastly, this is being posted without beta, or really even without my ability to go over it after having rewritten about half of it. Seriously, I finish for the deadline, but then just go back on all my words... oof. I promise I will revise it, but it shouldn't be completely indigestible on its own.

A Memory of a Different Color

 

_Part I._

 

The periodic crunch of snow was comforting, as was the warm hand in her palm. Fumi ignored her numb-with-cold nose that had begun to sting slightly with pain. She sniffed a bit; the crying earlier she'd done had made it even easier for the chill to seep in and she hated it.

 

Akira's eyes trained themselves to Fumi's face, longways. She couldn't explain her urge to always want to witness this girl's tears, even if she couldn't make them go away. Still, it felt even more painful if she thought that Fumi was hiding something from her, so she bore it. But it wouldn't do to watch her like a hawk anymore; they were both in high school now, after all.

 

When she was certain that it was just a momentary lapse, Akira gripped Fumi's hand a bit tighter and turned her eyes back to the sidewalk. The night was quiet, yet. The time was somewhere around 4am in the morning. Even the store owners weren't going to rush to get open on the day after Christmas for returns, so the two of them enjoyed the simple act of walking together.

 

They finished walking through the commercial district within ten minutes and had, at some point, let go of each others' hands. Reaching the side road which led into the residential area, their walk suddenly became more taxing than they'd first realized; on the way there, it had been fine to scramble a bit up the path beside the road which had an overlook of forest above it, but going back was going to be a different matter. The snow had been given the opportunity of about an hour or so to solidify underneath as ice. Finding themselves a bit off-balance, they walked (or rather, skidded) their way down the sidewalk as they made their way down the hill.

 

Fumi caught onto a lamppost on a particularly slippery patch and, with a twist, reached out her other arm on instinct when she heard Akira beginning to slip from behind her. The motion worked, somehow, and the red-haired girl mumbled a thanks. Fumi merely smiled with a gratitude of her own in return.

 

Akira seemed momentarily flustered, but passed it off by facing the overlook into the residential area they were headed toward. Her feigned interest slowly turned into a real one, however, as she took in the scenery, a blanket of white mostly undisturbed yet, silently covering the slumbering homes below. "It's so beautiful," she said eventually, and Fumi felt herself almost strain to hear it, she'd said it so softly, almost as though she were afraid that if she spoke any louder it might break the scene apart.

 

Indeed, it may well have been that Fumi had more read Akira's lips to know what she'd said, as the taller girl hadn't taken her eyes off of her for the duration of the exchange. She felt no pressing need to shift focus now, either. Instead, Fumi found herself considering Akira quite a bit more seriously than she ever had previously, and not just as a friend (or any other boxed-in relationship type for that matter), but truly as a whole _person_.

 

The shorter girl had unconsciously set her left hand tentatively, almost hesitantly, against the post to steady herself, the edge of her wristwatch peeking out from under her coat sleeve. The lamplight cast an almost haloing-type glow about Akira; the red of her hair caught this most especially. Her eyes were relaxed, a rich amber glinting slightly as they took in the treasure of a view. A soft smile graced her features also, comfortable in her surroundings. Finally, a tinge of red splashed across the girl's cheeks and nose, from the cold or from something else she knew not which, yet either way Fumi felt a barely-quelled urge to touch Akira's face to find out.

 

And then the thought came to Fumi very starkly, that she wondered she hadn't ever come to the conclusion before (let alone had never thought to consider Akira this way):

 

She liked what she saw.

 

Very much.

 

 

~~~

 

They reached Akira's home with no further situations arising, and both were glad for the comparative warmth of the blankets. After some fidgeting, Fumi was invited to lay down beside Akira; both knew it would be warmer than to try getting to a comfortable temperature than being alone. Strangely enough, Akira was the first to fall asleep (indeed, so quickly that Fumi found it amusing, as it was this girl who had suggested they go out for a night romp to begin with).

Akira's face was peaceful as she slept, as it always was. It made Fumi more than a bit jealous. Given another moment, the red-haired girl's mouth parted just slightly, and a light snoring sound filled the quiet room. Fumi merely smiled.

To Fumi, currently finding herself in a rather reflective mood, everything seemed suddenly immutable.

Her relationship with Chizu had lasted for quite some time in her own perception (though really, who thought of six months as a long time?). There had been a soft quality to it, like a woolen cloth had been pulled over her eyes through the entire thing. Indeed, whenever they touched each other, it would be well beneath a blanket, in the dead of night, struggling to keep their voices down and out of hearing range of the rest of the family. It worked of course, but despite how much of a warm and soft impression those experiences left on her, it didn't seem like there was anything much behind it; no red string of fate was tying them together.

Yasuko had a different flavor, one of mystery and dashing and excitement; there hadn't had a dull moment, there hadn't been any points at which she hadn't felt a rush in the back of her mind. Fumi had savored those moments of anticipation (mixed in as they often were with doubt and wanting to know this was even truly real). The red string Fumi felt which tied her to Yasuko had been always taught, tugging, and insistent. Thinking on it now, it hadn't been entirely unpleasant, but it also had made her weary of almost everything Yasuko did, no matter how much her heart hammered in her chest after the fact.

And of course there had been the other thing her relationship with Yasuko had brought onto the field which she'd never experienced before: jealousy. She had to agree, there was a certain amount of pride to be taken in having a girlfriend so desirable, but it had become far too apparent to Fumi that she herself was simply not built to handle such constant attention to her significant other, and in turn herself. Due scrutiny was one thing, but the fact remained that Yasuko was literally a legend not only in one school, but two. It had been killing her by the inches to see Yasuko so flaunted over.

Fumi turned over to lay on her stomach, finally facing away from Akira. Through all this, her conclusion, despite the differences, was this: she was waiting, always had been the one waiting. Nothing changed through either of the two relationships; it had always been Fumi who awaited their next move, their next action, unsure of how to act unless it meant reacting. It then occurred to her that perhaps that was her problem; that perhaps this had been the reason the relationships she'd been in had not lasted.

At length, she found herself burying her face against the pillow, inhaling deeply to capture Akira's scent from them. Her arms reflexively reached to grab the pillow into a tight, if awkwardly positioned, hug. Fumi then turned to face Akira again, still on her stomach, still clutching the pillow.

It was then, in the back of her mind, that she had convinced herself that she might be the one who would take initiative. Then again, initiative was well and good, but Fumi also knew it wasn't ideal to jump into another relationship so soon; her gnawing doubts with Chizu had more than once seeped into her impression of Yasuko.

 

With someone such as Akira... someone who had supported her so much already, someone who was already the sort to give as much as she took, she wanted things to be _right_.

 

This time she would wait yet again, bide away for the right moment, but for this instance at least, it would be on her own terms.

 

~~~

 

The weeks passed slowly as Fumi considered how she might bring up the subject to Akira. The red-haired girl had begun taking up her backstage role for the next play and Fumi would find reasons to discreetly join her each day. Sometimes she would take up the mantle of errand-runner, fetching drinks together with Kyouko. Others, she would sooner call herself a ninja, sneaking into the staff-only hallway behind the stage, sometimes climbing up the stairs to the catwalk so she could wait to spy on Akira as she regularly dashed onto the stage between scenes to add or remove certain props and backdrops. (It sounded more romantic than it probably was, but Fumi didn't mind.) Yet other days she would seek Akira out specifically, inviting her to eat at the local ice cream shoppe.

 

Fumi enjoyed these times the greatest, mostly because she knew the other girl was truly enjoying herself; Akira would, without fail, eat her "afternoon snack" with relish and would speak so animatedly that Fumi swore (if she were the swearing type, which she was not) that she might have placed Akira's hand in t he Bocca della Verità* and that even  _if_ she'd told a lie, that Akira's demeanor and constant control of the conversation would completely fool the carving. Fumi herself never tired of it.

 

Afterwards, they might go to a park until dusk (never any later, because the night brought out the worst in Akira's fear of the occult when they were alone in the darkness), visiting the lines of trees still bare of their leaves or playing games of hide-and-go-seek among the various tourist-like structures. Neither of them had the heart to tell the other that they felt very childish during these games; they felt so exhilarating to play that the two forgot for the moment that they were young women now.

 

Fumi eventually realized that she had a terrible crush on Akira. She thought of nearly nothing else, no one else, every time she felt her mind wander. The smaller things: the way Akira's eyes lit up whenever she smiled, the adorable fidget she made when she thought no one would notice if she'd been embarrassed, and even down to her habit of keeping her wristwatch upside-down on her wrist; all of these contributed to Akira's appeal.

 

One day, a Saturday morning sometime in early March, Fumi stood at the train station, her hands holding one another behind her back, the topmost one hooked haphazardly around the handle to her schoolbag, head bent slightly to try to keep her nose as close to her muffler as possible. It was a half-day for the both of them and they regularly went someplace special on such occasions.

 

Akira arrived on the platform around the normal time, none-the wiser, and just as chilled. "Fumi-chan, would you want to go window shopping today?"

 

Hazel eyes glittered happily at the suggestion, but she had already made her plans for today. "I want to do something else." The train was turning the bend in the tracks, the screeching brakes covering her silence and Akira's confusion. Generally, Fumi was never the sort to decline an invitation Akira made.

 

"Well... all right," Akira replied uncertainly, as they boarded the train, ignoring the chatter of the other passengers.

 

It was easy to tell that Fumi's cheeks had perked up into a full-on grin, even under the muffler . "I just thought we might have some fun today, doing something different."

 

Fumi's grin was naturally infectious. "Fun is good!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bocca_della_Verità


	2. Part II.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cookies if you get the reference to another anime. :P

_Part II._

  
The two girls reached the gate to the Annual St. Miator Elementary School Festival after a train ride and bus crossover, a trip lasting a total of a mere 23 minutes; Fumi considered the time excellent, given the time of day and traffic that normally occurred as school children were being let out. (Of course, there was the fact that this Festival had also been advertised in just about every shop in the main district, to boot.)

 

"Wow, Fumi-chan, they even have a Ferris Wheel!" Akira squealed a bit, obviously enamored with the concept, even if it was a rather small, more portable version that had obviously been simply rented out for the day.

 

Fumi just smiled in response. She walked up to the registration table to the side of the gate, finally her turn after standing in line, and requested admittance for two. Akira was too focused on trying to sneak a peak at the various attractions she could see from her current position that she never had the chance of noticing Fumi take enough to pay for both tickets out of her pocket and push it across the table.

 

"Here, Aa-chan," she called when she reached the other girl's side, holding out a ticket.

  
"Hey! I can pay for my own!" Puffed cheeks were about the only part of Akira's expression that Fumi could recall.

 

"I had a special discount flier," Fumi lied smoothly. "Two for the price of one before 1PM."

 

It seemed Akira was considering the feasibility of the statement, so like any true professional Akira-handler, Fumi distracted. She tugged at Akira's arm somewhat roughly, but not enough to hurt the other girl. "Come on, I hear they're serving food in the cafeteria."

 

"Food? Oh, I wonder if they'll have ice cream..." Akira trailed off dreamily, already imagining the sweets.

 

~~~

 

A short time later, and a parfait a piece heavier, they exited back out onto the main campus grounds. As was typical, there were stuffed animals to be won. Fumi did her best to win one (and indeed, even came close once with the ring toss), but eventually prudence won out and they figured it best to not spend _all_ of their allowance money on what-ifs.

 

All of the other attractions seemed a blur, however, compared to Akira's final destination. The Ferris Wheel itself wasn't very impressive in the least upon inspection; it was apparent that the paint was older, faded, and the hinges of the carts squeaked horribly as passengers got on or off. But Akira wasn't here to _inspect_ the thing, she was here to _ride_ on it.

 

When their turn finally came up in fact, she was so excited that she practically bounced a couple times before lifting a leg cautiously to step inside as the attendant held the door open. Fumi murmured a quiet "thank you" as she entered the cart with her exuberant friend. The door was shut and a distinct click told the both of them it had been locked securely.

 

While Akira had to only duck her head, Fumi found herself having to bend over quite a bit just to keep her head from hitting the ceiling. After a quick assessment of the small space, they silently agreed to place their belongings on the seat across from themselves, preferring to sit next to each other instead, their backs facing the direction that would be making the ascent to the top.

 

Once the attendant was sure they had settled down, there was a brief jolt, and the cart began its climb.

 

Perhaps it had been purely chance, but it so happened that they had been the last set of people to board on this turn around; there was no stopping to let on more passengers at the bottom for the time being. Fumi was quiet, watching Akira, and Akira was quiet, watching out the window in fascination as the people became smaller and smaller on the ground.

 

As they neared the pinnacle of the ride (which, funnily enough, barely reached above the trees, yet somehow still managed to give a decent view of the sun beginning to set in the horizon), Fumi felt somehow that this might be the _right_ time. When the cart itself came to a stop just at the top, Fumi's heart jumped in her throat for a moment; she knew she'd been _thinking_ about it, but was the ride actually agreeing with her? This was silly...

 

Still, she reached out, gently lifting Akira's right hand from where it rested as a support for her to look further out the window down to the ground. Akira resisted only slightly at first as she shifted to a less slanted position, looking down at where their fingers were now intertwined, then facing Fumi with a curious look. Searching for tears, Akira found none, and that revelation was perhaps the most confusing part of the whole situation. She'd been _expecting_ something to be wrong.

 

"What is it, Fumi-chan?"

 

The dark-haired girl took a deep breath, continuing eye contact. "Aa-chan, I don't want you to feel like I'm pressuring you for an answer right now," she gestured somewhat weakly to their obvious location some dozens of feet in the air in a metal box, "but I would like for you to at least think about it."

 

Now it was Akira's turn to feel her heart jump into her throat. She could tell already by Fumi's mannerisms what she was about to ask. Somehow she just _knew_ and perhaps _had known_ ever since Shinobu had planted the idea in her mind a couple months ago that it might come down to something like this. Had she just been conveniently ignoring the signs til now? She felt very suddenly and completely off-guard.

 

Fumi had read the moment of panic on Akira's face and finally broke eye contact, unable to hold it any longer, and cracked a half-smile as she then looked to the metal flooring as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. She still felt the steel in her resolve underneath, however. She would persevere through this. She needed to.

 

"Would you..." Fumi rubbed her thumb along Akira's knuckles lightly, feeling her own lower lip tremble as an inevitable sign that she was about to cry, "like to go out with me?"

 

Akira's impulse was to retrieve her hand from Fumi's touch, but thankfully her common sense kicked in before that action could take flight. She couldn't stop the stiffening of her joints from shock, but she could make it seem as though squeezing Fumi's hand inadvertently from it was a planned comforting maneuver. The shorter girl had almost convinced herself of it by the time they'd reached the ground a few moments later.

 

Despite the gesture, she found it hard to formulate any audible answer to the question. Instead, she chose to reach out and wipe the tears from Fumi's cheeks and scan her friend's features with concern. The truth was, Akira had no answer right now.

 

When the cart jolted to life yet again, they sat very quietly beside each other. Neither had the courage to say anything further, and neither could look at anything besides the metal floor. It was a bit of a waste, Akira would recall, looking back on what had happened that day. Who rode a Ferris Wheel and didn't look outside the cart?

 

They still held each other's hands until they reached the bottom.


	3. Part III.

_Part III._

 

They bid each other an awkward farewell when they reached the station closest to their homes. Fumi had been unusually subdued, not even on the brink of tears as what Akira might have expected. Akira felt the occasional sober glance out of the corner of her eye the entire ride home, but still found herself tongue-tied regarding Fumi's earlier proposal, so she kept her own gaze well out of range.

 

So it was that they departed, never having mentioned the subject of obvious concern since they'd been sitting so close and feeling so high.  


Not just the goodbye, but  _everything_ about this was awkward, Akira decided. She loathed the feeling. Was she really this floored by Fumi's question, or was she just floored by how sincere it had been? The sincerity was probably what made it so hard to deal with. Fumi had laid herself out to Akira's will and complacently trusted her to do what she would. Being a generally more confrontational person herself, she found the passive nature of the very act of confessing to be unnerving.

 

It was implicit that she trusted Fumi no matter the conditions. The two of them were on the same wavelength at almost any given time; it took only moments to read the other, calm them if necessary, being so natural that sometimes Akira managed to forget they'd been doing it even when (and ever since) they were kids. Akira had never seen the other girl so much as hurt a fly intentionally. Well, except perhaps for Yasuko...

 

Yasuko. There was a person she desperately wanted to not think about right now. If anything came out of this series of events, she knew for a fact that she wanted with all her might to keep from being compared. But Yasuko is where her mind dwelled, refusing to let go.

 

As she finally entered the foyer of her home, tapped off her shoes and touched the railing of the stairs she realized why, though she couldn't place the reason: Akira was afraid of hurting Fumi as Yasuko had.

 

~~~

 

After a light dinner, a good night's sleep, and a considerably more hearty breakfast, Akira had made her decision. It was Sunday now, and she picked up her phone, rapidly texting off:

 

"Would you like to come over? I would like to talk to you."

 

As she hit the send button, Akira thought to herself that it might be some time before she received a reply, but fate proved her wrong.

 

"Sure."

 

Akira frowned at the brevity, but figured it was probably only going to be natural. She clicked away her response.

 

"You can come whenever. Shinobu's going to a study group today, so we'll have the upstairs to ourselves."

 

This time, the response was a bit delayed.

 

"I'll be over in about an hour. Please excuse the intrusion."

 

Akira felt the smile on her face expand across her entire face, unbidden. She didn't have the slightest idea why.

 

~~~

 

Fumi arrived as promptly, as Akira had expected. Akira smiled at the other girl, projecting the image to feel at ease. The smile was naturally infectious, as it normally was between the two of them, and some of the tension in Fumi's body relaxed as she removed her shoes in the foyer, placing on a pair of guest slippers.

 

Even so, there was a underlying nervousness to the motions; Fumi's hand shook ever so slightly as it took hold of the bannister, a mixture of hope and contained giddiness all with a single reaching hand.

 

There was a call from the kitchen, "Aa-chan? Who was at the door?"

 

"Ah, it's only Fumi-chan, Mom. Don't worry she's just visiting!" Akira yelled back.

 

"All right, but make sure you don't make a racket up there today. Your father is still working on his dissertation."

 

"I know already, Mom," Akira replied, drawing out a few of the vowels more than was strictly necessary in typical teenaged fashion.

 

The two of them climbed the stairs and reached her door without any further incident. Akira led the way in, politely waiting for Fumi to enter, before closing the door shut. They both sat down on the bed, and the similarities to sitting beside each other as they had yesterday was not lost on either of them.

 

"Well, here we are," Fumi tried out her voice for the first time since she'd entered the Okudaira household.

 

Akira took a deep breath, hoping to get rid of any jitters in her voice.

 

"Fumi-chan," she said in her normal, melodic way and she paused before repeating it in what she felt was probably a more appropriate manner, at the same tempo, but perhaps a little more serious and a bit less song-like, "Fumi." Her nose immediately scrunched up a little as she took in how it sounded, but it seemed she wouldn't be deterred after using it just the once. "Fumi...

 

Maybe I'm just not sure what it is that I want." Akira felt a lump forming in her throat, her courage flagging. Still, she had to finish. "I... don't exactly know what I'd be getting into."

 

Just like that, Fumi realized with a jolt of warmth to her heart as well as to her cheeks, that _this_ she could handle. _This_ was a situation she could work around – even further, that she could truly understand. Drawing a deep breath, she stood. "Aa-chan."

 

Fumi leaned down to lift Akira's hands from where they sat in her own lap, taking each one in her own, and smiling even as, despite Akira's nerves, the other girl's fingers wrapped reflexively into hers. The fact that this would never change, this simple game of cause and effect they always played together albeit unconsciously, made Fumi only more confident in her decision.

 

She tugged once, hardheartedly twice, as Akira had started to stand in the midst of it; unable to take any more, she selfishly pulled the red-haired girl into a hug. It seemed to last a small eternity. In fact, Fumi swore later to herself that it seemed to last to the point where her knees might eventually have given in (or was that due to what came after?), but Akira took to burying her cheek into the crook of Fumi's arm so naturally that it didn't matter in the least to either of them.

 

"Actually, I believe I like this part best," Fumi said after a moment or so, feeling the other girl take a deep breath of contentment against her. "Don't you?"

 

"I do," Akira's answer came without hesitation. "But you know," her voice held the slightest hint of a ribbing tone, "I don't have to be your girlfriend to give you hugs."

 

In her own mind, Fumi began quietly panicking and she desperately hoped that Akira didn't feel her stiffen as an arctic chill traveled up her spine (though honestly, Fumi had no idea how she possibly couldn't have). The dark-haired girl could, in fact,  _feel_ that same chill creep into her face, freezing it into what was probably a most unpleasant expression. She gripped at the other girl's back a bit tighter suddenly.

 

In contrast, Fumi also felt a weakening of her heart, almost as though it had fallen through her stomach and wanted to continue beating from its new, awkward position just to spite her. "Aa-chan..." she trailed off, her own voice sounding surprisingly thick.

 

Akira was surprised half out of the hug, pulling back to look at Fumi's face. Her eyebrows arched in concern as she saw involuntary tears forming at the edges of Fumi's eyes. "Ah, no! Fumi-chan!" she cried out, not even caring that her family might hear them now. She jumped fiercely back into the embrace, only partially to comfort her friend; the other part of their closeness was so she could draw strength for herself.

 

She knew she had to come up with something else to say, but found any words she might possibly think up catching in her throat. Akira realized with a sense of dread that being in this situation, of Fumi being her normal self and crying at almost the drop of a hat, was causing her to doubt her own resolve to their relationship. Her immediate reaction, to comfort Fumi in any way she possibly could... Akira knew very little about being a couple from true experience, but she did understand that wasn't how relationships lasted.

 

Was she really only doing this out of  _pity_ for the girl?

 

This couldn't be right, Akira told herself. She squeezed still, as though something important depended on it; it took her a couple moments to realize that yes, it really was something important to her. And also, she thought, absolutely worth it.

 

"I want for you to be happy, Fumi. Even when we were little, that's all I wanted for you," the words came after a long pause, and they were slow, but steady. "But that's not the reason I've decided to accept your request."  


Fumi got tense again suddenly, though this was more likely attributed to shock.

 

"I want to accept it because of everything we do for each other, each day, that make it worthwhile to even get out of bed in the morning. I want you to be close to me, so that I can always find you if needed. I want to be there when you need me." Akira swallowed. "And I... I wouldn't be opposed to trying to show that in different ways than we have in the past."

 

Fumi was still nervous and afraid to move, but she couldn't help but smile at how good Akira was at beating around the bush. The taller girl pulled back enough so that her thumbs brushed slightly against Akira's reddening cheeks. The red-haired girl could no longer hold eye contact.

 

Finally, Fumi decided to throw caution to the winds and tilted the other girl's face upwards. Akira's expression turned from surprise to one of a somewhat passive calm; she would trust Fumi. Fumi smiled madly at how much better at this Akira was compared to how shy she had been with her own first kisses of her other relationships.

 

Slowly, she closed her eyes, and by using only how her hands were placed as guides, kissed Akira softly on the lips.

 

Without a doubt, this kiss was unlike any other Fumi had experienced before. This was what it felt like to take initiative.

 

She was excited to see where it might lead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I'm sorry if this doesn't hold much coherency. I was under quite a bit of medication on top of normal pressure, time-wise. I promise to brush it up later properly.
> 
> OTL


End file.
